#durational

Demoglyphs/hierophages on vault wall, mapped on unseen paper scraps. Emanations of DeSelby (na gCopaleen): "night = excess of black air".

–clinical wasteman



Can I play with your knobs? They're so shiny.

How do they work? What do they do?

Can I make the noise

The one that made everyone come?

The one that caused the climax

The excitement

The golden ratio

Can I touch that one? Yes, that one there? What does it do?

How do you create this? This sound. The one that bought everybody to this tunnel.

The one that makes them sit still as onlookers

Are they watching us?

While I play with your knobs?

Are they watching as I twist them?

The ones that make everyone shudder

The ones that cause a panic

A stir

The wriggling

Of many limbs

As the onlookers watch

They become part of the corruption

Part of the exercise

Part of the noise

Take my hand, he said

And I'll show you

In this dark tunnel

It's the best place to learn

Close your eyes

Let the sound penetrate you

Let it in to your body while you lay here on the cold, hard floor

Can you feel the panic?

The corruption?

The touch on your every nerve?

Can you feel the fire?

The crisp, harsh licks

Beating about your skin

As the noise fills you up

Then it's gone

It comes

And it goes

Back and forth

Back and forth

Back

Forth

Taking its time

Hurrying along

Then slowing again

The breath of the onlookers is part of the show

I'm this tunnel

Underground

Dark

Hard

Floor

It's time

To meet it

------

I will be all the contradictions you don't expect me to be

While the walls moan and the floors crackle

The rumbling from underneath

Shaking your judgement

A star from the sky exploding in jest

Statistics waning

Wanting words wandering

They wondered why the sounds of water chased the sound round the room

A flurry of sputtering

Flutterings

Fall back

Down

The way

Is blocked

The noises move

Surround

Sound

All around you

Cutting knife edge that comes towards

Then backs down

Isolated

Insulated

Insecure

Umbra sombre

Iconic

Itchy

Scratching the surface of the horizon

Hexagonal

Diagonal

Distance

Closeness

Shame

Shouting into your face

Beeps from far away

Belting

Bewildering

Bewildered

Go ahead

He's calling for you to go with him

Take his hand

Handle his noise

Handle his harmony

It's happening

Now

–Laurie McNamee